


Saftey

by So_many_issues



Series: Breaking [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abused Dean, Abusive John Winchester, Bobby is like basically a father, Can you tell i hate John, Dean Winchester is Not Heterosexual, Dean-Centric, Deans pretty fucked up, Depressed Dean, Gen, Hurt Dean, Hurt No Comfort, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Mental Health Issues, Scars, Self-Harm, bobby is life, but like not really so, carving, idk - Freeform, well like maybe a bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-09-14 20:09:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9200363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/So_many_issues/pseuds/So_many_issues
Summary: John decides that he can't deal with his children and they can't deal with themselves so he drops them at Bobby's, giving Dean some needed rest





	1. Home

**Author's Note:**

> So usually I wouldn't do something chaptered and normally I wouldn't only publish one chapter but I felt bad and it's like half of what I have cooking so like? I don't know? Enjoy? after this it's two more and then I'm done and I have the last two done so yeah. Anyway.....

 

     Sam couldn’t wait to get to Uncle Bobby’s. The last month had been extraordinarily stressful. First, dean passed out, for reasons that Sam still didn’t understand, and then he was pulled into a police station, for reasons, he again, still didn’t understand. But at Bobby’s there was knowledge and stability, and what Dean described, safe. Yeah, he yet again didn’t understand that either. But Sam shrugged that off and decided to follow in his brother’s steps, and sleep a little before they got there. .

  
  


       Dean’s muscles were stiff with sleep. As he stretched them out he was reminded that he wasn’t anywhere near healed. His father hadn’t exactly gone easy on him when he found out how much of a girl he’d been where he needed to carve words into his legs. Ironically, that had been one of the words he carved into himself. Life’s a bitch, his father had said. And John wasn’t exactly kind when he found out that CPS almost got them.  _ This is for your own good, boy. _ Dean shuddered at John’s words from that night. Dean didn’t know why, but there was a place in his head that repeats what John said. Over and over again. Dean blamed that for why he couldn’t remember everything. Really, his memory wasn’t that limited. His head contained the important stuff:  the current beatings, keep Sammy safe,  the memory of his father before. He’d remembered how his father would smile at him, and hoist Dean up on his shoulders. He could never forget how his father would look at his mother, and the look his father had just after the house burned down. And maybe that’s why Dean would, could, never stop forgiving his father. It’s why he believed the words John spat out at him, and why he believed it was all his fault, not his fathers. The grumble of the impala, as it was turned off, pulled him from his thoughts. He looked out the window and couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. Here, in all its glory, was Bobby’s house. Bobby’s house, that always meant a bed, and a hot meal, for everyone, and the insurance of a few days to heal. It meant actual love and security and, well, safety.

      Dean unlocked the car door and grabbed the duffels from the trunk, grinning from ear to ear. He woke  Sammy up as gently as he could while the two hunters exchanged pleasantries. Dean snuck behind them and set the duffles in the respective rooms. He came back down to see Bobby hugging Sam, and Dean’s smile was re-animated once again;

      “Ah, come on Dean, come ‘er.” Bobby said with open arms and a smile. Dean chuckled and let Bobby wrap him up in a hug. Only problem, Bobby hugged tight, and Dean’s ribs were still healing. He stifled a wince.

      “You alright there, son?”

      “Peachy.”  

      “Alright,” no doubt Bobby was skeptical, but he always was, that was just Bobby, he didn’t exactly approve of John raising the boys like he did, but he didn’t really have a say in the matter, he only wanted to try and make them as happy as he could when he could.

     “Well happy belated birthday!”

      “Yeah happy birthday Dean!” Sam said as he ran past, mouth full of food

      Shit,  _ shit _ , that’s why that date seemed so familiar, okay so what? He forgot one date,  _ It was your own birthday  _ his brain shot back. Whatever, he just had a lot held up there in his head.  Dean’s entire body flinched when a bag of guns we’re set down on the table with a loud thump and his breath hitched in his throat..he sighed. Maybe he was just defective. That was probably it, just came out wrong, come to think of it, he’d been screwing up for a while.

_      Dean stood there crying silently, tears hidden by the rain. His dad had just slammed the door shut, red-faced and frustrated with Dean. He couldn’t help it though, his small eight-year-old hands couldn’t really get a good grip on the rifle, especially not when it was pouring. There was another loud thud as john came back out. He walked forward and grabbed Dean’s jaw tightly. _

_       “Look son, I’m trying to teach you something useful, so you can be safe, so you can protect  _ _ Sam. _ _ “ okay dean do this for Sammy. He sniffled and stretched his arm up so he could grab the neck of his gun. He took a shaky breath and pulled the trigger, his eyes squeezing shut and his body stiff. The kick back hit his temple hard, again, but he’d become so rigid the kick back didn’t really affect the aim. He managed to hit the wood right below the (mostly) empty beer can making it tip and fall over. A proud smile played at John’s lips. He began going through the rest of their little arsenal, handing dean a number of guns. Each one with a kick back too strong for a little boy, and they left him battered and bruised up, Soon enough  Dean, and the rain. Had managed to knock over or down each of the cans. John set a line of bottles next. But it was late and after a while John was beginning to grow frustrated with poor aiming. _

_      “For fucks sake Dean! How hard is it?!?” _

_      “Sir I think somethings wrong with the gun. It keeps hitting me.” John growled at Dean’s reasoning _

_      “The only thing defective here, is you,” He slapped a box of bullets down next to dean, “You can come inside when you’ve shot them down..” _

_      The rain didn’t let up. _

     “Boy? You alright?”

     “Yeah yeah of course. I uh guess I just zoned out there for a minute. Sorry.”

     ‘’ ‘ts fine, I was asking what you wanted to do for your birthday.”

     “Oh Bobby, you don’t got to waste nothing on me.”

     “Boy ya ain’t a waste, I wanna do something for ya, that’s what family’s for. We’ll talk about it over dinner. John, you stayin’?”

     “Nah, I gotta book my room, I’ll only be a few towns away.” And with that John left, and slowly so did the tension in Dean’s shoulders, but if anyone noticed, they didn’t comment.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

      After dinner, Sam ran out to explore the junkyard, while Dean stayed back to wash the dishes. The smell of home-made lemon soap invaded his nostrils. The scent he only related to bobby. Soon, another pair of calloused hands joined his in the suds. And Bobby didn’t do anything but when he saw a blossoming bruise on his elbow, he began to doubt his friend’s ‘parenting techniques more than ever. When Bobby looked at the older boy again, he noticed the dark rings under his eyes, the way his skin was paler than he remembered, how stark his freckles were against it. But when bobby looked at Sam, he was energized, happy. Bobby could conclude anything with the evidence he had. Maybe Dean was just not a really gregarious kid, or maybe the stress if high school was just hitting him hard.

     “You getting much sleep?”

    “Enough.” Bobby sighed. He knew he’d only get short, curt answers.It wouldn’t help him much. It could after all just be a teenage boy thing. Bobby wiped his hands off and left dean to it. He walked outside to find laying on the ground, panting, and a stupid smile plastered to his face. Bobby raised a brow. Sam pointed to a stack of old cars.

     “Mountain climbing.” Was Sam’s only answer. Bobby laughed. He hated to say but he almost liked Sam’s company better. Dean was always so protective, and really seemed to only relax when he was alone.

    “Wanna try?”

     “Nah, I’m too old. Why don’t you get Dean to come out and play?”

    “He’s still hurt, I think.”

    “Hurt?”

    “Yeah, he went to the hospital a while ago.”

    “Why?” Bobby tried to keep his voice light but he couldn’t help his anxiety levels rising. As stoic as Dean was he was still like a son to Bobby. Maybe if Sam and Dean were just left with him instead of being taken on the road, Dean would be a little more carefree.

    “Don’t know, and I don’t think he really likes it anyhow.” Now Bobby was just confused.

    “Why on earth you think that?”

“    He always like, I don’t know, winces, like it hurts him or something.”

     “I think you just work ‘im too hard.” Sam laughed,

     “Probably.”

Bobby was worried. At first, he thought dean was just tired, or sick, but the bruise, the way Sam described their play. Even the way Dean ate worried him. He only ate a few bites, but after Sam was done, his eating had a far normal rhythm. Dean was an enigma. On one hand, Dean was a hunter, he was bound to loose some sleep, carry around a few bumps and bruises. At this age have more responsibilities, But then again, John shouldn’t be taking him out any hunts that leave him wincing when he tries to play with his brother, and even then, Bobby knew how strong Dean was, how good of a fighter he was, and if Dean was hurting then john would be too. Hurting enough for them to both take a week of break.

As the sun settled down the boys began to get ready for bed. Dean smiled and played with his even more gregarious brother. Bobby had no idea how to settle Sam down for bed, but just as he worked up the nerve to try, he swung the door open to find that Dean was tucking in a knocked out Sam.  Dean was running his hands through Sam’s shaggy hair with a soft look on his face. Bobby cleared his throat and Dean’s head snapped up. In those green eyes there was something Bobby didn't recognize at first, Worry? Concern? No, It was fear.  But before he could see any more behind the green orbs the elder Winchester stood up and quietly shut the door behind him.

     “Good job kiddo.” Dean’s face glowed at the praise.

     “Thanks Bobby. I- Uh- think I’m going to go shower.”

     “Sure thing.” Dean walked off to the bathroom as bobby’s phone started to ring. He sighed at the caller ID.  

……………

      The short call with J ohn left Bobby thinking that whatever case he was working on was probably some kind of spirit. He walked over to the stacks of books and boxes of files . He sat down and started going through files where the boxes and pilled up and been covered in dust. As Bobby started going through the aged files he heard the shower turn an exasperated sigh come from behind the old wooden door, but heh raised his brow when he heard it turn back on.

……………

      Dean turned the foist off and let out a breath he hadn't realized he’d been holding.  He was used to showers stinging, but sometimes it wasn’t about the physical pain. Sometimes it was just the reality that came crashing down. His bruised skin looked like a two-year old’s water color gone wrong. The words carved into his flesh made his demons so much more real, and the white lines that crisscrossed under black thread in a feeble attempt to piece him back together was a permanent reminder that these demons couldn’t be kept out with salt. He hadn’t even picked up the bar of soap. He knew this was going to sting more that just water, but he had to remember, nothing was going to happen here, He’d have a chance to recover. He took another breath and turned the fossit back on.


	2. Trigger

The next day Dean woke up with the sun streaming in his eyes, he groaned and and turned over, his face twisting when the movement stretched the healing wounds.  He buried his face in the pillows and tried for several more moments to fall back asleep but failed. With a sigh, he rubbed his hand over his face and got dressed. Minutes later he was going down the stairs to the kitchen where Bobby sat, eating a sandwich and reading a newspaper.

 

“Nice of you to join the living,” Bobby said still reading the paper. Dean hummed in response and looked at the clock. Jesus Christ Bobby had a point, it was almost noon. He walked over to the sink and got himself a glass of water. 

 

“Got a new car is you wanna work on something this week.” He said offhandedly. Dean beamed, 

 

“Yeah, whatever you need old man.” 

 

“Thanks, boy, it’s over in the back when you want to get to work.” He smiled and put down his glass before heading out back. When he went back he saw an old scrappy orange Mustang. The car itself was nothing special, in reality, it was a scrappy pile of junk waiting to be smashed to smithereens. But Dean saw none of that. Instead, he saw her former beauty, the idea of her gliding on an open road on a sunny day. He couldn’t fight the smile that slipped onto his lips as he dug around for the rest of the car, and dragged the rusted metal into the garage. 

 

Bobby finished his sandwich and kept reading for a few moments before curiosity got the best of him.  He checked out the window once more to make sure Dean was preoccupied before he walked into his room. It was a clean and orderly room, it always was, but after years of spending the night, Dean had left a few things to claim the room. Bobby only had to search for a little longer before finding the teen’s duffle. He paused for a moment. Was this a step too far? After all, what was he going to find? Even if there was someone hurting Dean, what evidence was he going to find? At the same, if he was going on more hunts… There’d be something to reflect that right? He opened the duffle. It was more or less what he expected. A bag of Il fitting clothes that looked like it couldn’t decide what time of year it was. He sighed in relief when he didn’t find anything incriminating. He should’ve known better than to think that John could ever hurt his boys.  He picked up a small plane on Dean’s shelf and smiled, Dean was safe

 

Later, Bobby collected the boys to eat. Dean served himself after Sam but didn’t hesitate to stuff his face. Again, Bobby was relieved, he remembered when they first came over

 

_ Dean sat diligently. With a small amount of food on his plate, he watched his little brother eat. Once every five minutes maybe he’d take a bite. The concentration was an odd look to see on such a young boy. _

_ “Dean. Eat your food.” John said after maybe 20 minutes of this. Dean’s attention snapped to his father before he looked down and he took a small bite _

_ “I can make you something’ else son.” Bobby offered _

_ “No no, he can take what’s given to him. He just gotta learn it’s the best he’s gonna get.” _

_ Dean’s eyes glued to his plate as he pushed the food around, taking bites more often. And while he might’ve cleared his plate, there was barely anything on or before. Shortly after John left. Bobby gave the two boys some snacks, hoping to put some more food into Dean. Unfortunately the following night he found Dean in tears and clutching his stomach. Something from an old documentary popped up in his head about how this happens when starved people eat more than they’re used to, but he dismissed it. _

 

……………………………………………….

 

The following morning Dean was up bright(er) and early. It wasn’t long until he dismissed himself to go into town for some extra parts. He walked into an auto body shop where they knew him fairly well. And normally he loved the hustle and loud noises of the shop, but today there was too much yelling, too many angry voices. His chest got tighter. He ignored it. Or he tried until some mechanics were coming through with a giant metal thing and he got shoved against the wall to make room and a knob hit his back. Then everything froze. His breaths came in great big gasps and it still wasn't enough, there was ringing in his ears and he didn’t know how he got so light headed. Sounds were coming in muffled and the world was blurring. It felt like his brain was screaming like his lungs were shriveling up and like the air, he was trying to breathe in was more toxic than what he had exhaled.  He saw a few blurred faces trying to talk to him, trying to understand what was happening, but it only made everything more chaotic. 

 

But soon he smelt Bobby's home-made soap, and he felt Bobby’s gruff hands and heard his voice yelling at people to scram, give him some space. It took a few moments for his breathing to slow down.

 

When he came to it he was on the couch with a massive headache. He rubbed his eyes and laid back down. Soon, Bobby came in with a cup of coffee and sat down. 

“Glad to see you’re awake.”

“Yeah.” Dean let the silence hang for a minute.

“Boy, what happened back there?” 

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

“Dean.” 

“Bobby it’s nothing I’m fine.”

“Dean.”

“Bobby, please.”

“Dean.” He sighed and ran his hands through his hair.

“I- Bobby- look it’s really not that bad.”

“Whatever it is Son, you can tell me.” Dean sighed and pulled off his shirt to reveal a series of bruises and cuts in various stages of healing. Bobby took a deep breath.

“Alright, let’s get you some bandages.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright don't hate me I do have a plan it is in action just slow. Comments are a helpful guilt trip, that's all I'm saying.


	3. Finally, a Good Thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look this isn't super descriptive or long, but hey, after this, there's one more and then the end which is finished so !

Bobby had just finished patching Dean up when he had worked up the nerve to ask him,

“This your dad’s work?”  Dean took a long moment before nodding slowly. He hadn’t managed to look up this entire time. 

“I’m sorry Bobby, It’s just. There’s this really small spot on my back and-” “Son it’s okay. You  don’t have to apologize.”

As soon as Bobby was about to say something more they heard footsteps coming down. Bobby stood up to talk to Sam but Dean had already slipped his shirt back on and slipped out the door.

“Dean wait!”

“Bobby, what’s happening?” Sam asked

 

 

Dean shoved his hands in his pockets and hurried out of the junk yard. He rushed through the fields of rusting scrap metal and into the surrounding woods. He walked for a while before the trees broke and he entered the city. The sun had already set and his breath was coming out in puffs. He slumped against a wall and brought his feet up near him. The rough wall was digging into his back and the smell of the dumpster next to him was sinking into his clothes. He felt selfish leaving Sam behind but he was with Bobby, he was gonna be safe. Dean pulled his sleeves up over his hands and rubbed them together. 

“Fuck.” he whispered before putting his hands to his face to try to stop the tears that started down his face. 

“Hey there little man.” said an older voice. Dean cursed and wiped his face before looking up.

“You talking to me?” he said in the most stable voice he could muster.

“No, I’m talking to the ghost behind you.” Dean laughed at the irony

“I wouldn’t doubt it.”  The stranger laughed softly and sat down next to him.

“My name is Eden.”

“Dean”

“Well, Dean it looks like you could use the help.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” She raised an eyebrow

“You’re telling me you have a good warm place tonight? Someplace that’s safe? Maybe even a warm meal?”

“...Yeah”

“So how come I found you here, alone on a street corner?”  Dean was silent. She sighed,

“Look, you don’t have to go through whatever happened. Just, let me buy you a cup of coffee.” Dean sighed, it was in public, and it was cold, and maybe it lowered his guard a little bit, so he agreed.   
  


 

.........................................

They sat over their coffees in silence.

“Why are you helping me?” Dean said after a long while.

“You seemed like you could need it.”

“Plenty of people need help.”

“Maybe I help plenty of people.” He didn’t say anything.

“Look, Dean. Is there anyone I can call, you said you had a good place to stay?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Do you want me to call them?”

“ I don’t know.”

“You want to tell me about it?” Dean sighed. 

“I don’t know.” 

“Alright. Well, I know that I’m just about done with my coffee, and I know that there’s a couch you can crash on if you have to cool down.” Dean felt the small iron knife kept in his shoe and decided it was worth the risk.

 

 

Eden’s house was a small building with exposed brick and a smell of lavender. Dean walked over to a mantel a picked up an old black and white photo of two people in white dresses.

“Who’s this?”

“That is me and my wife, Olive.”

“Who’s who?”

“That’s me on the left and her on the right.”

“You uh, looked a lot different back then.”

“That was me while I was transitioning.”

“Transitioning?”

“From male to female?”

“Really?”

“Yeah, that was us on our wedding night. Given it might not have been official, but to us it was.”

“Hmm, I didn’t know, you could um, do that.”

“Do what?”

“Marry someone that’s not, I dunno the opposite gender.” Eden smiled softly 

“You can.” They spent the remainder of the time talking, mostly about her life, she showed dean old photos and told him stories ranging from the sweetest stories of Eden and Olive to the wild stories of her twenties and her political influence and stories of friends of communities until Dean had fallen asleep. Eventually, Eden got the sense to get Bobby’s contact and give him a call. She assured him that there was nothing to worry about and they talked about Dean being picked up in the morning. 

  
  


The next morning when Dean woke up he saw Bobby and Eden talking at the table. He rubbed his eyes and sat up

“Uh? Hello?” Dean said

“Oh hey there son.” 

“Nice to see you alive.”

“What happened?”

“Eden called me and told me what had happened, and so I came here this morning and here we are.Why don’t we go home Son?” Dean smiled, 

“Alright, thanks you guys.”


End file.
